


Together Again

by spowell Once and Future Series (SPowell)



Series: Once and Future [24]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, post canon au, post ep. 5x13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-06 14:14:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1861020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPowell/pseuds/spowell%20Once%20and%20Future%20Series
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur finishes up his time and New Zealand so he can return home.</p><p>Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to BBC, Shine, and legend. I make no money off this endeavor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Together Again

**Author's Note:**

> Part of an on-going series.

Arthur completes the last twelve days of filming in an angry haze.

Wolff’s lawyer, a smarmy man by the name of Bruce Nichols, pays Arthur and Merlin a visit before Arthur is even released from the hospital and informs them he will be looking for anything at all he can use against them in order to protect his celebrity client.

There is no way Arthur can allow the man to do that-- Arthur doesn’t have a past to look into, other than some hospital records Merlin conjured up, and Merlin’s past consists of hundreds of years of moving from place to place, never aging unless it was to spend a few years as an old man. Arthur is forced to drop the charges.

Merlin wants to remain in New Zealand with Arthur until Arthur finishes filming, but Arthur flatly refuses. It’s bad enough that he’d been rendered helpless and almost raped by Wolff; he doesn’t want Merlin babysitting him and thereby adding to his feelings of incompetence. So Merlin goes back to London, on a plane this time, and Arthur slogs through the rest of his film scenes.

The flight home is hell. Arthur doesn’t have the pill Merlin gave him for the return trip because he took it in a moment of extreme anxiety one night in the hotel room. He tries to sleep, but is unable to, due to fear of the plane crashing to the ground every time there is the merest jolt.

They experience a period of turbulence mid-way through the flight that nearly sends Arthur scrambling for the bathroom. Most of the other passengers sleep right through it, and Arthur wonders how they possibly can. The plane dips and judders, and Arthur digs his fingers into his knees. The older woman sitting in the window seat beside him shifts positions, moving her small pillow, and glances over at Arthur. With a concerned frown, she points to the bag tucked into the back of the seat in front of Arthur.

“Those are sick bags,” she whispers sympathetically. “Just in case you might need one.”

Arthur gives her a small smile and a nod, swearing to himself that he will _not_ sick up, no matter how bad it gets.

Finally, the sign comes on to buckle seat belts, and the plane lands at Heathrow Airport.

Arthur’s edgy when he disembarks; his fingers sore from his death-grip on the arm rests during landing, and his legs tense and cramped from long hours of sitting. He doesn’t like crowds, and his nerves are shot from the long flight. Thankfully, all he has to do is walk to baggage claim and retrieve his suitcase.

Hefting his carry-on onto his shoulder, Arthur passes through the gate and immediately begins searching the crowd for Merlin, anticipation sparking through him.

Merlin isn’t in the crowd surrounding the gate, and Arthur walks halfway to baggage claim before realising that his mobile is still turned off. When he switches it on, a message from Merlin is waiting for him saying he’s running a little late.

Arthur takes the moving stairs (he forgets what they’re called) down to baggage claim, idly wondering why anyone thought it a good idea to create these slow-moving machines. They don’t get one anywhere any faster; in fact, Arthur knows he can walk faster than the stairs carry him. It really seems they’re only made in order to avoid walking. The same goes for the moving sidewalks—it seems ridiculous for him to just stand still while a belt carries him at a leisurely pace when he can walk himself, and a lot faster at that.

Arthur waits beside the moving line of suitcases, watching for his own. All around him people are reuniting, and Arthur misses Merlin so much, his heart hurts. He hated sending Merlin back home from New Zealand, but everything in him balked at being watched over like a child. Besides, Merlin left home hastily; he needed to get back.

Since Merlin left, Arthur’s had the distinct impression during their phone conversations that Merlin’s not telling Arthur something, and now that Arthur’s back home, he’s going to find out what that something is.

A tap on Arthur’s shoulder, and there Merlin stands, ears and cheeks pink and gorgeous smile broad. Arthur drops his carry-on bag and pulls Merlin into his arms, nose burrowing into Merlin’s neck to suck up the lovely, familiar scent of him.

“I’ve missed you,” he says into Merlin’s ear, and Merlin’s hold tightens around Arthur.

“I’ve missed you, too.”

They’d slept together the one night Merlin stayed at the hotel after Arthur was released from hospital, but still feeling the after-effects of the drug Wolff had given him, Arthur had barely been able to hold a brief, whispered conversation with Merlin before falling into a deep, uninterrupted slumber. Merlin left a note on his pillow the next morning that he’d gone to catch his flight and didn’t want to disturb Arthur’s much-needed rest before filming resumed the following day.

All in all, it had been five weeks since they’d made love, and the feeling of Merlin’s body pressed against Arthur had Arthur hard in an instant.

“Home,” he whispers urgently, mouth an inch from Merlin’s ear in the crowded airport, and Merlin nods, picking up Arthur’s bag.

“Your suitcase,” he reminds Arthur when Arthur would have walked off without it, and then chuckles when Arthur impatiently turns and glares at the parade of baggage. It seems to take forever before Arthur spots his own black bag out of a sea of black bags, and that is only because Merlin had insisted upon attaching a neon green strip of tape to it for just that reason when Arthur packed to leave for New Zealand.

Then they are on their way.

“I thought we might go out to dinner,” Merlin says in the car, which Arthur has learned is called a _Volks wagon_ , rather than a Bolts wagon. He still despises it.

Arthur puts a hand on Merlin’s leg. “Do you want to go out to dinner?” he asks, inching his fingers upward toward Merlin’s crotch.

Merlin swallows. “I guess we can forage on what’s in the fridge.”

Arthur runs his thumb over the distinct bulge in Merlin’s trousers, and Merlin shivers.

“Arthur, I’m trying to drive!”

Arthur really wants to put his head in Merlin’s lap, but he doesn’t want Merlin to wreck, so he settles on torturing Merlin with his hand until Merlin finally curses and exits off the interstate and onto a side road.

“What are you doing?” Arthur asks, looking around.

“What good is magic if I can’t use it for our benefit?” Merlin asks, opening the car door.

Arthur follows him, and with a flash of Merlin’s eyes, the car is suddenly covered in undergrowth and completely invisible from the road.

“Come, you,” Merlin orders, and begins making his way into the woods.

“Uh, Merlin, maybe we should have just continued on home…” Arthur says, looking about at the trees and high grass with the beginnings of trepidation.

“No way,” Merlin tells him. “Not with you teasing me like that.” He turns and grabs Arthur by the shoulders, pulling him in for a deep kiss.

As good as it feels, Arthur isn’t very keen on dropping to the bug-infested ground for a shag.

“Merlin…” he murmurs into their next kiss, the feel of Merlin’s tongue against his own making it difficult to think.

Merlin pulls back and sighs. “You honestly don’t think I can do something with this?” With a flash of his eyes, the area clears, and there’s suddenly a comfortable mattress beneath the canopy of trees. Another flash, and their clothes are off and hanging over a branch.

Arthur smiles, pulling Merlin’s hand forward to kiss his knuckles.

“I never doubted you for a minute.”

“Humph,” Merlin snorts, and tugs Arthur to lie down on the cool sheets with him. Overhead, birds sing and a squirrel jumps from branch to branch as they resume their snog and Merlin’s hands run down Arthur’s bare back and arse.

Arthur spends ages licking and nipping at the long expanse of Merlin’s pale neck, drawing small noises of pleasure and frustration from Merlin’s mouth.

“Arthur…” Merlin sighs, and Arthur returns to those lips he loves so much, sucking and pulling at them before swiping his tongue inside the cloying warmth of Merlin’s mouth. Merlin’s legs fall open and Arthur settles between them, finger finding its goal and teasing mercilessly.

Merlin breaks from their kiss and, taking Arthur’s hand in his, flashes his eyes at it, covering it in slickness.

Arthur wastes no time in lubricating his hard cock and then pushing a wet finger inside Merlin, who keens and arches his back, eyes staring into the canopy above.

Another minute and Arthur is seated inside Merlin, pumping rhythmically, Merlin writhing and groaning beneath him.

“Gods, missed this…” Arthur pants. “Missed…you…”

Merlin pushes up to meet Arthur on the next thrust, their eyes locking and holding. Arthur swallows, heart full, pausing for a moment before taking up the rhythm again. He grasps Merlin’s cock with his wet hand, tugging and twisting it until Merlin closes his eyes, a tremble taking up in his belly and spreading upward, and spills with a shout that send the birds flying from the tree above them.

Arthur finds it extremely hot the way, sated, but still breathing hard, Merlin watches Arthur as he continues thrusting, release slowly blooming. Merlin’s fingers creep up Arthur’s belly to gently play with his peeked nipples, short nails scraping the tips.

Arthur’s ragged breaths stagger as he drives himself to the edge, looking down to watch himself plunging into Merlin's stretched hole, then dragging his gaze upward over Merlin's softened cock, pearlescent beads of ejaculation dotting Merlin's flat belly. But it's the sleepy, loving look in Merlin's eyes that finally brings Arthur over the edge, the soft, tightness of Merlin’s inner tissues stroking his release out as Arthur spasms, hoarse cries of pleasure escaping his lips.

“You’re so beautiful when you come,” Merlin whispers into Arthur’s ear after Arthur collapses beside him.

A soft breeze blows over their sweat-soaked bodies.

Arthur laces their fingers together. “Don’t be a girl, Merlin,” he says, smiling happily.

Merlin turns onto his side and flicks Arthur’s nose with his free hand.

“Ouch! It’ll be the stocks for you,” Arthur threatens in his most pompous voice.

“You wish.” Merlin bites Arthur’s shoulder, and Arthur clamps his arm around Merlin’s waist, pinning him to him.

“If I weren’t so exhausted from fucking you senseless, I’d spank that impertinent bottom of yours until it shines red,” Arthur tells him, and Merlin gives him a stubborn look before easing into a smile and kissing him. Slowly, he melts into Arthur’s embrace, and Arthur tightens his hold, kissing him for a long time.

With a contented sigh, Arthur looks up into the sparkling branches of the tree.

“If a bird shits on us, I’m not going to be happy,” he says.

Merlin snorts, and drifts off to sleep.

 

 

 


End file.
